


Happy New Year, Sherlock

by stardust_and_sunlight



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (was Maura16), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, New Year's Eve, Romance, past!Johnlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1246228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_and_sunlight/pseuds/stardust_and_sunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year's Eve is a time for friends and family. So John goes to spend it with Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy New Year, Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> I starting writing this sad little thing at twenty to midnight on New Years Eve, and finished it the next day. So I wrote it in both years. That makes me happy.
> 
> I hope that 2014 is going well for you all so far!

John hugged Mrs Hudson goodbye. She smiled sadly after him, wishing he wouldn't go, but she knew he wouldn't listen. He had done this the last two years. So she let him, and spent the evening with her sister- she knew that it was something he had to do.

He walked slowly, in no hurry- there was no-one waiting for him, after all. He could hear people laughing and chatting in back gardens as he passed. Everyone was with family or friends. And that's where he was headed.

The cemetery was closed, of course, but John easily scaled the fence, carefully dropping his rucksack down first.

He landed awkwardly, twisting his leg. His limp had never completely disappeared- psychosomatic, he'd been told. It grew more pronounced in times of stress or grief, and so he limped along, hiking the heavy rucksack onto his back.

He reached the grave at quarter to 12, and sighed, running his hand along the marble headstone.

He pulled a blanket from the bag, spreading it on the wet, cold grass and sitting down awkwardly. He carefully pulled out two glass tumblers, pouring golden whiskey from a flask. He balanced one glass on the gravestone and took a big gulp from the second.

He leant his head against the cold marble and sighed deeply. "It's been a hard year, Sherlock," he said quietly. "Molly got married, Mrs Hudson's son got married, Sarah eloped, Lestrade found a new girlfriend, Harry and her wife are back together... It seems like everyone has someone now, and I'm still alone. I'm always so alone..."

He tipped his head back, draining the whiskey and refilling his glass.

"Mrs Hudson says I should find someone else. She thinks I should move on. She worries, you know. Thinks I drink too much." He chuckled self-deprecatingly, gazing up at the stars. "I've tried dating, but no-one compares. You've ruined everyone for me, Sherlock. I want to hate you for it, but no matter how hard I try, I can't."

He gulped down more whiskey, fortifying himself- although why he needed liquid courage to talk to a stone, he didn't quite know.

"I want to move on, Sherlock," he whispered, voice filled with pain. "It hurts too much, loving you. At first, I refused to accept it. You couldn't be dead. My Sherlock, who was smarter than a genius, couldn't possibly be dead. But it's been nearly three years, Sherlock. Three goddamn years! I just..." His voice cracked at he looked down. "I just want to stop hurting."

He heard people shouting, from far away. "10... 9..."

He looked in surprise at his empty glass, pouring the last of the whiskey in and swirling the amber liquid around.

"I miss you so much," he whispered. "So much."

"5... 4..."

John ran his finger over the name on the stone. Sherlock Holmes. A solitary tear trickled down his cheek.

"2...1... Happy New Year!" Cheers and laughing rang out, and fireworks shot into the air, exploding into thousands of stars, raining down on the world.

"Happy New Year, Sherlock," murmured John. "I love you."


End file.
